#ramtorch

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Sometimes he’s back there. March 17th, an abnormally warm morning, and the Misota parents had taken their seven-year-old twin children to the park. The young children decided to play hide-and-seek, as they had so many times previously, and their arena was out of their parents line of sight. They were in a relatively well-to-do neighborhood, what reason was there to worry?

And then they found him.

The gray-skinned monsters had found him, pinned him down, held him as he screamed and screamed for them to stop, as he cried out for his mom and dad and sister, but nobody heard him.

And when the knife pierced his throat, no one would ever hear him again.

Despite now being fifteen-years-old, he’s now choking, trying to get the invisible blood out of his airways, he can’t breathe, god, he can’t fucking breathe and everything hurts and they’re laughing at him--

Eyes are wide, sight far, far away, and he’s grabbing at his throat, pulling away at his scarf to get anything off of his throat, and the scars from the very scene he’s replaying are shown prominently, and they burn, burn, burn.